


Day 13 - Delayed Drowning

by fanfictiongreenirises



Series: Whumptober 2020 [13]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Delayed Drowning, Dick Grayson is Robin, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Tracheal intubation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26988004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictiongreenirises/pseuds/fanfictiongreenirises
Summary: Dick thinks he's catching a cold after a rather average night of patrol.No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUTDelayed Drowning| Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Whumptober 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947217
Comments: 20
Kudos: 210





	Day 13 - Delayed Drowning

**Author's Note:**

> Have a baby Dick for your fine Tuesday ^~^
> 
> Warnings: secondary drowning, vomiting, tracheal intubation
> 
> Disclaimer: don't own DC

THIS FANFICTION IS HOSTED ON **ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN** , WHERE YOU CAN READ IT FOR **FREE**. IF YOU’RE READING THIS ON A DIFFERENT WEBSITE, IT WAS POSTED THERE **WITHOUT** THE AUTHOR’S CONSENT.

Dick hadn’t really bothered to tell anyone about the fact that he’d taken a dip in the river. In his defence, though, he was absolutely dead on his feet. All he wanted to do was head up to bed and crash.

It wasn’t even like this was the _worst_ dive he’d ever taken – there’d been that one time he’d actually had to be resuscitated because he’d been under for so long. He didn’t like to think about it – it was an unpleasant situation, to say the least, and the way he’d been watched for an entire fortnight following it didn’t help.

But this time, all that had happened was that he’d been held underwater for a little bit.

Dick was panting and coughing as he headed up the stairs to his room. Alfred had headed off to bed after they’d finished bowls of soup – in place of the usual hot chocolate – and Bruce was only a few steps behind him.

“You alright?” he asked. “You aren’t catching a cold, are you?”

A hand pressed to Dick’s forehead before he could even think to answer the questions, and he swayed back a little on instinct.

“I feel fine,” he said, even as his words were followed by a series of coughs.

Bruce grunted, looking at him assessingly. “You feel a little warm,” he said. “And you’re coughing like crazy.”

Irritation prickled under Dick’s skin. “That doesn’t mean I’m getting _sick_ ,” he snapped.

Bruce blinked at the sudden change in his mood. “Can’t hurt to check,” he told him, heading towards the bathroom where Dick knew there’d be a fully stocked medkit.

Instead of waiting outside, Dick stalked into his room. He’d showered in the Cave, so all he needed to do was brush his teeth. But his bed was calling to him, and _surely_ it wouldn’t hurt to skip a single night.

Shivering slightly, Dick crawled under the covers, closing his eyes slightly and trying to fall asleep. Hopefully Bruce would value Dick sleeping over trying to prod a thermometer into his mouth.

His door creaked open slightly, and Dick tried to deepen his breathing, body going limp. But something in the back of his throat tickled and suddenly he couldn’t stop the coughing fit from erupting, shooting upwards in an attempt to draw more air into his lungs.

No such luck. Dick’s eyes widened slightly when he couldn’t find the breath to suck in oxygen, hands scrabbling at the covers slightly. He could feel Bruce’s hand on his back, rubbing it gently. He was saying something, too, but Dick couldn’t focus on the words.

Finally, the coughs subsided, leaving Dick with a pounding headache and an exhaustion that was bone deep. Even now, though, it was like he couldn’t properly fill his lungs.

When Dick opened his eyes again, it was to Bruce’s frowning face. He held in the urge to sigh; he’d had a cold only last month and it’d been the _worst_. He didn’t want to go through that again. When Bruce brandished the thermometer, Dick grimaced and opened his mouth, allowing for Bruce to slip it under his tongue and trying to resist the need to cough.

Bruce glanced at his watch, timing it, and all of a sudden, the only thing Dick could think of was how his father had done the same thing on the rare occasions that Dick would get sick. He took in a shuddering breath, and then swallowed reflexively as another flurry of coughs threatened to overcome him.

Bruce gazed at him in concern, and even though Dick didn’t really feel like it, he tried for a reassuring smile anyway.

“Almost done,” Bruce said. “I’ll hurry it up with your winter costume. I should’ve thought of it before winter hit, to be honest.”

Dick shrugged a little with one shoulder, not finding it within him to use both. He was moving around too much for most of the night to be cold, in all honesty; it was really just stake-outs that were chilly now.

And even then, huddling under Bruce’s cape offered more warmth than any thermal layering could.

“Done,” Bruce said, plucking the thermometer out of Dick’s mouth.

It was clear, from the way he glanced at it, that he hadn’t been expecting a high temperature, but his eyebrows rose, and he muttered a curse. Bruce headed to the bathroom immediately. Normally, Dick would’ve trailed after him, but now, he had no energy to do so.

“B?” he called in a voice that croaked halfway through. Stifling a few coughs in his sleeve, he lifted his head up towards the bathroom door. “I don’t feel _too_ bad.”

Bruce appeared with what looked like half the medicine cabinet. “Alright,” he said. “Last time you tried—”

“No,” Dick whined. “That medicine tasted _really_ bad. It probably made me worse.”

A flicker of a smile passed Bruce’s face. “Medicine isn’t supposed to taste good, chum,” he said.

And that was when Dick felt _actually_ sick – not just a cold pressure in his chest, but a twinge in his stomach that he’d become very familiar with recently.

He staggered out of bed, Bruce catching him as he stumbled. “I think I'm going to be sick,” he got out through coughs, and Bruce picked him up with ease and carried him there.

Dick gagged over the toilet bowl, but nothing came out. There was a gross taste inside his mouth, an aftertaste of the lake he’d been dumped in, and the thought of that made his stomach try to expel his insides once more.

This time, the tiniest trickle of bile came out, most of his vomit watery.

“Dick,” Bruce said once Dick had been fine for a minute. “I need you to tell me if anything happened on patrol tonight. Even the weirdest, most insignificant detail.”

Dick opened his eyes from where he was sitting on the edge of the tub, leaning against the wall. “I already told you, B,” he said, voice muffled. “I chased after the guy, the second one came up behind me. He tossed me in the river. I went—”

“He tossed you in the river?” Bruce’s voice was loud enough to make Dick wince, head jerking up. “Why didn’t you tell me—” Bruce cut his own words off. “Do you feel like throwing up right now?”

When Dick shook his head, slightly confused, Bruce leaned forward and picked him up again, and then _ran_.

“Bruce!” Dick yelped, arms tightening around Bruce’s neck with all the strength he had.

“Dick, from your symptoms, there’s a strong possibility that water got into your lungs.” Bruce’s voice was as tight as the strings on Dick’s guitars, his feet swift and sure as they ran towards the entrance to the Cave.

“I didn’t swallow anything, though,” Dick said into Bruce’s ear. He closed his eyes as the world around him spun with every step that Bruce took.

“It’s weird like that,” Bruce said distractedly. “I’ll explain it to you after I make sure you aren't going to drown on me.”

Dick giggled a little at that, but they faded when Bruce's mouth stayed just as serious.

Dick felt Bruce slowing down, and opened his eyes cautiously. Bruce placed him gently on a cot in the Cave, and raced over to where they kept their medical equipment. Dick watched him for a moment, but sleep was tugging at him now that he wasn’t feeling nauseas.

Dick had only closed his eyes for what seemed like a moment when he came to, coughs erupting from his chest. There was something in his _mouth_ —

Dick gagged and coughed, arms coming up and scrabbling for whatever was inside his _throat_. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow without feeling the sensation of it inside of him, harsh and long. He had no idea how far down it went, and he didn’t care, as long as he got it out _now_.

There were hands on his, but Dick didn’t pause his floundering until he finally registered the voice that was calling to him.

“—alm down! Listen to my voice, sweetheart. Just breathe normally; you’re fine.”

Dick wanted to snap at him, tell him that there was nothing _fine_ about having a giant rod down your throat, but this was Bruce. He wouldn’t lie to Dick, not about this. Dick dug his fingers into Bruce’s arm as he tried to breathe around it, even as every part of himself rebelled against the feeling.

“That’s it,” Bruce encouraged. “You needed tracheal intubation. It’d gotten…” He trailed off, and that told Dick more than words would’ve.

 _Out,_ Dick signed to Bruce, completing the gesture with a strong frown.

“Cough for me, deeply,” Bruce said.

Dick complied without commenting something like _gee, like I have to try for that_ , and then the _worst_ sensation he’d ever experienced happened. Bruce slid out the tube, and it slithered out of his throat as he coughed. If Dick thought about it too much, he would probably gag at the thought, so he did his best to look past Bruce and at the rest of the Cave, studying the array of equipment that was sitting out on the bench adjacent to the cots.

Bruce helped Dick sit up, and handed him a cup of warm water. “Drink this if you really need to,” he said. “Nothing cold for a while, okay?”

Dick shivered despite himself when his fingers touched the warmth of the cup. Bruce noticed it immediately, and Dick was suddenly engulfed in two thick blankets. The thing with blankets down here was that none of them were the fun, fuzzy ones they had upstairs; these were all made or ordered specially, to treat things like hypothermia or shock.

Still, Dick was grateful for them now, despite the lack of carousel horses printed on them.

“Do I have to stay down here?” he rasped out. Whatever amount of sleep he’d gotten, it hadn’t been enough. Part of Dick also refused to consider any amount of sleep that occurred while he had a _tube_ down his throat as proper rest.

Bruce nodded. “You still need to be kept under watch,” he said.

It was only the weary lines around his forehead that made Dick go with it, instead of trying for puppy eyes to convince him otherwise.

Dick settled down into the cot, in a position where he’d have a good view of the Batcomputer, because he knew how Bruce liked to work if he was kept here overnight. But to his surprise, Bruce wheeled in the TV from the quarantine cell, placing it a respectable distance away from the cot.

“You’re staying here?” Dick asked sleepily.

Bruce shot him a surprised look. “I said we had to monitor you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but, I thought…” Dick trailed off, and then shrugged, snuggling into the blankets more.

Bruce settled into the chair to the side, but he kicked his feet up to tuck them under the blankets, too, so Dick was mostly confident that he’d be able to get Bruce to actually use a bed in the next hour or so.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! This has also been [cross-posted onto tumblr](https://fanfictiongreenirises.tumblr.com/post/631859909501370368/day-13-delayed-drowning)


End file.
